


do not cross

by phinnia



Category: House, M.D. - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-12
Updated: 2007-09-12
Packaged: 2017-10-15 09:45:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phinnia/pseuds/phinnia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>written in eight minutes for flashslash @lj.</p>
            </blockquote>





	do not cross

He should have known there was a problem when the car (not the 'vette, not the bike, but the comparatively mundane Honda) was parked in the handicapped spot that morning. Really he should have known there was a problem when House was anywhere near Princeton-Plainsboro at the unholy hour of six-thirty in the morning, but Wilson's sleep-dimmed mind initially thought that he might have slept over the previous night.

It was only when he saw the garish yellow tape (CRIME SCENE: DO NOT CROSS) criss-crossing the clinic's doors and the bedsheets draping the glass wall like ominious ghosts that he realized that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Wilson listened for a moment, his brown eyes widening as he heard the familiar sound of an iPod turned up to 'obnoxious'. Roger Daltrey was screaming at him to meet the new boss, and how he or she was no better than the old boss.

He took a deep, cleansing breath (in through the nose: out through the mouth - find your happy place, James) and opened the barricaded clinic door. "House,, what in the hell are y- _oh my God._ "

Chairs. All he could see were chairs, stacked upon chairs, lashed together with gauze and ace bandages, a carbonless forest of metal and vinyl. There was a single opening in the wall, just large enough for one person to fit.

"Wilson!" The music died off. House sounded amused, nay gleeful, and that was terrifying. "Come on back. I could use a little help with the last of this."

Wilson edged his way through the stacks of chairs: they teetered menacingly around him as he followed the path that House had left. "What in the hell have you done?" He stepped in a bedpan filled with water and muttered a curse under his breath.

"Presented our clinic patients with a challenge. I figure if they're sick enough, they'll actually try to make it through. Watch your step: the floor is a little greasy in spots. I got a little crazy with the lubricant on the floor." House poked his head around the corner of a stack of chairs, and his grin was even more terrifying than just his voice had been. "You know how it is, Jimmy."

"Cuddy is going to kill you." Wilson breathed, shaking his head. He turned the last corner and finally found House, bunkered down for the siege in style with his portable TV, an enormous bag of snacks and a big bottle of Vicodin.

"She'll have to find me first. You like the walls? I was trying for a labyrinth effect. I wanted topiary but I couldn't get the lab cultures to grow fast enough, so this'll have to do."

"You have finally, irrevocably snapped." Wilson shook his head once more and sank down on one of the rolling stools House had pilfered from the exam rooms. "You're going to be doing clinic hours until half past _doomsday._ "

"Probably, but I'll have good memories to reflect on during my exile." House yawned and stretched, leaning against the wall in satisfaction and surveying his makeshift obstacle course. "You know, the clinic isn't that bad without all those nasty _patients_ to mess up the place."


End file.
